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scumbagbaker · 4 years ago

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Once In A Lifetime || Irish

“I thought I told you to stop showing up here.”

Benjy smiles around his cigarette and squints at Cleona from across the parking lot, deciding not to answer her until she’s close enough that he can see her own smile.

“I can take care of myself, Benj. It’s just the bus.”

“Hmm.” He says, taking another unlit cigarette out from behind his ear and offering it to her. “Well, maybe I just missed my girlfriend.”

“Mhmm.” Cleona says, taking the cigarette and pushing her hand in the pocket of his jean jacket to search for a lighter. “I’m sure its just that.”

“It is.” Benjy says softly, pulling the lighter out of his jeans. He covers her hand with his in his jacket and squeezes. He doesn’t need to tell her, because she’s heard it a thousand times, but he doesn’t trust the citizens of Dublin, largely given that he is one. In the dawn light, some of the leftover glitter on Cleona’s cheek catches, and he leans forward to kiss her around his cigarette as she glows. He glances over her shoulder and waves to the bouncer, who nods back in recognition. It made Benjy feel better that someone watched out for the girls when they left the club, but he still hated the too many loose ends regarding safety that came with Cleona’s job. Still, she brought home more money the first month she started dancing than either of them had for most of that year, and she insisted she keep working, and Benjy couldn’t argue with the results.

Benjy wasn’t crazy about the idea of strange men knowing what his girlfriend’s tits looked like, but he wasn’t nearly stupid enough to start fight that again. Especially not today.

“And-” He says, producing the lighter with a flourish and letting her go. “Maybe I just wanted to be the first one to tell you Happy Birthday.”

Cleona smiles brilliantly and tucks one of her curls behind her ear before snatching the lighter.

“Go on then.”

“Happy Birthday, Finny.” Benjy says, releasing a puff of smoke and kissing her again as their bus pulls up.

They hold onto each other as they board, giggling when they get the side eye from a few men in business suits. They settle towards the back, Cleona sitting across his lap as Benjy produces his flask and a pill bottle from his coat. Cleona shakes three of the little white bars onto her palm, popping two into Benjy’s open and waiting mouth before washing her own down with the flask. Benjy leans forward to kiss the cold skin of her neck.

“Should’ve bought you a scarf for your birthday.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him and taps her lips twice with her pointer finger. After he pulls away, Cleona looks up at him with impossibly big eyes that he would give the world to, grinning as she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“You got me something for my birthday?”

“Hmm, did I say that?”

“I think you did.” Cleona laughs at herself and steals another nip off the flask before passing it back to him. Benjy takes a long pull and then shrugs.

“Well I’m drunk so…”

She shoves his chest before settling against him, unzipping her coat a little more as she warms up. This was their routine, at least it was on the days she couldn’t convince Benjy to not wait for her. She pretends to be annoyed when he shows up, he produces some sort of lame excuse and spends the ride home working as a human pharmacy/furnace. Benjy doesn’t sleep good if Cleona isn’t beside him. He works almost as late as she does, he could, in theory, get a few hours in even before he goes to pick her up, but he can’t. However, for the past few weeks, instead of spending his few solitary hours getting high and complaining about how bored he is to the ceiling, he did something useful. All so this morning would go according to plan.

Cleona rolls her eyes at him when he opens the door to their flat’s building for her.

“Such a gentleman.”

“We did just come from a club for gentleman.” Benjy lets the door close behind him, pushing up the sleeves on his jacket and looking at his girlfriend smugly.

“You suck!” Cleona shrieks, grinning as she kicks her heeled foot at him. She’s two inches taller than him in them, and Benjy thinks its the hottest thing that has ever happened in the history of time. He grins back at her and snakes an arm around her waist, pulling her against him and kissing her hard.

“Get upstairs and we can celebrate your birthday proper, yeah? Lemme check the mail while I’m down here.”

Benjy pats her on the ass as she passes and Cleona shakes her keys back at him menacingly and heads up the stairs. Benjy loiters at the mailbox he doesn’t bother to open until he hears her voice carry down from the second floor.

“Oh, Benjy…”

He climbs the stairs and stands behind her in the doorway, his head resting on her shoulder despite barely being able to reach. Cleona’s hands cover his on her waist as she takes in their apartment.

Every surface seemed to be covered in flowers. They were gathered on the counter and carpeted the carpet, hanging from the ceiling and even dangling from the door in front of them. Benjy watches as Cleona reaches out to touch one and smiles softly, almost shy, as she gasps.

“They’re…”

“Paper. Yeah. Er, this kind-” Benjy nods at the ones in front of them. “Was actually pretty easy, so I made, like, tons, got tired of em, started making more…”

Benjy trails off and Cleona shakes her head slightly, staring slightly open mouthed at the sight in front of her. Benjy pulls the curtain aside and steps back so she can explore. He’d found some old Christmas lights at the charity shop down the block and had hung them all over the ceiling, using them as a way to hang more flowers using some fishing line he stole from Kilian-he’d been a tad worried once he’d started that he would cause a fire, so he was glad to see their apartment still standing. It had taken him weeks-folding flowers during slow nights at work, when she was at work, when she was asleep. He’d hid them everywhere, among his shoe boxes of junk and behind the ironing board they didn’t use and in the storage room at work. They were every color, though a lot were neon orange and green as those were the cheapest colors of the heavy carstock he needed to make them. The bouquet of red roses in the middle of the table were actually made out of the little red cocktail napkins from the bar. Benjy is more proud of himself than he ever has been. Cleona’s eyes and glitter catch the lights around her, the look on her face makes Benjy believe in magic.

He wants to tell her this, wants to show her how she literally lights him up, how much deeper and complete and better everything is whenever she looks his way. He would kill himself if that’s what it took to make her happy, he’d give up his life in a second, anything. It scared him, sometimes, how much power this tiny woman with the world’s largest eyes had over him. But god, in moments like this, Benjy doesn’t know how its possible for one person to be this lucky.

Instead, he clears his throat as he walks through the door, pointing out the easily overlook-able white paper bag on the counter.

“I got muffins, shops didn’t have cupcakes out yet-”

“You think I bloody give a fuck about cupcakes right now?” She asks, her voice as dazzled as the rest of her.

Benjy shrugs and pulls off his coat, letting it fall to the floor as he moves forward to help Cleona out of hers. They kept the apartment warmer than they could probably afford because they both detested the cold-which Benjy of course would never readily admit. They’d fought about that once-the heat. Fighting about something once was a rarity when it came to them, Benjy could only think of three other examples. They’d just gotten the bills and she had that little line between her eyebrows.

“Well,” Cleona sighed, looking at the depressingly small number on Benjy’s paycheck from the bar next to the electricity bill. “I suppose we’ll have to cut down on the heat”

“No.” Benjy had said quickly. Cleona had cocked her head as that damn line deepened.

“The fuck do you mean, no?!”

They went in circles for a ten minutes, their voices rising and falling as Mrs. Mulligan downstairs hit her ceiling with her broom. Cleona had accused him of using the radiator to masturbate, and Benjy wasn’t entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

“I can’t spend another fucking night without heat!!”

He didn’t hear the Scottish part of his accent he couldn’t quite squash sharpen in his voice before it was too late. It rang out, loud, angry, and giving him away.

“Shit.” He’d sworn as Cleona had started to soften. He couldn’t look at her, even when she touched his arm. Benjy had leaned into her so she knew he felt her, that he was still there.

“I...didn’t think about it like that, babe. I’m sorry.”

He told her then, for the first time really, all the nights he was sure he wouldn’t wake up. Because of the cold, because of the others on the streets, because of his own mother. How one December his mum had dumped him at a children’s shelter for three days. He was 7, and he didn’t understand why everyone was giving each other presents around a pine tree. How that was when finally, someone noticed the frostbitten parts of his fingers, and he got taken away from her for the first time. She’d kissed the thumb he’d never before told her had no feeling. She’d hugged him. And the heat had stayed on.

“Benjy, this is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You’re unbelievable. It’s just my birthday.”

“Just your birthday?!” He roars, incredulous, scooping her up into his arms and giggling with her as Mrs. Mulligan beats on her ceiling.

“Finny.” He whispers, pausing to give her a ‘what the fuck’ face as she licks the tip of his nose.

“Finny!” Benjy stage whispers,

“No need to shout!” Cleona crows, and she cackles so loudly that Benjy nearly drops her.

“IT’S MY BIRTHDAY, MRS MULLIGAN!” She calls, putting her hand over Benjy’s face when he shushes her.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR!”

They both laugh in delight, and Benjy stomps twice on the floor, and the old woman hits her broom back twice.

“NOW PLEASE SHUT IT SO I CAN GO TO SLEEP BEFORE THE TWO OF YOU SHAG AGAIN”

“Fucking hell.” Benjy says, Cleona has tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. He gingerly spins them around in their tiny kitchen, careful not to hit her feet on any of the walls. Her heel catches a string of the flowers on the Christmas lights and as it falls, Benjy moves her so they land on her. Cleona wraps it around Benjy’s neck like a boa.

“See?” He says, leaning forward to hungrily accept her kiss. “Even Mrs. Mulligan knows today is special. The day Cleona Marie-”

“You know it’s not Marie-”

“Cleona….Tiffany-”

“I hate you.”

Benjy smirks at her before softening as she touches his eyebrow.

“You seriously don’t get why I might enjoy the day you were brought into this world?”

“Mmm,” She says, her fingers tracing his cheek and his jaw. She taps his bottom lip.

“I might have...an inkling.”

“I can work with an inkling.”

Benjy kisses her deeply again, dropping his arms out from under her legs and bending to put her carefully back onto the floor.

“Go get comfy, I already made pancake batter, how many do you want?”

“Christ, you’re perfect.”

Cleona still hasn’t dropped her arms from around his neck. If Benjy had his way she never would.

“I’m glad you’re finally noticing.”

She shakes her head at him and he mirrors her. Cleona kisses him swiftly and then slides around him towards the bedroom hallway, smacking him on the ass as she heads to their tiny and well used bedroom.

“Mimosas?” He calls. She responds with an obnoxious click of her tongue that he takes to mean yes.

He sets their small round table, moving the ashtrays to the sink and carefully figuring out how to position the pancakes so they don’t collapse. He turns around with the forks and nearly collapses himself as Cleona reappears with her hair loose and wild, sporting a tiny green pair of underwear matched with his Smiths tee shirt she stole years ago.

“We don’t have to eat.”

“Like hell.” She smiles, “Plus you’d be eating no matter what so…”

“Nasty!” He chides, his smile betraying him as he throws the tea towel from his shoulder at her.

“I’m allowed to be nasty, it’s my birthday.”

Benjy groans dramatically and she smiles at him pleasantly as she spears a pancake and shoves most of it in her mouth.

“Coffee?” She asks, snorting as he frowns at her.

“You want me.” She says, accepting the mug Benjy hands her.

“That’s the devastating part of this.”

Laughter keeps coming all through breakfast. Benjy insists Cleona blow out a candle on a muffin before he gives her her other presents.

“Presents, like...plural?”

Her eyebrows disappear into her hair, and Benjy sees the tentative hope on her face. He knows if he told her he misspoke, or that he didn’t have even anything good, she wouldn’t be any less excited, but the prospect of more surprises, just for her….

Benjy is so glad he doesn’t have to disappoint her. He hopes to any God he can think of that he’s done disappointing her.

“Presents, like plural.”

He doesn’t know if he wants to kiss the grin off of her face or stare at it forever.

“Okay, okay!” Cleona hastily blows the candle out and adjusts her own flower string boa.

“Happy?”

“More than you can imagine.”

That earns him a kiss and another ass smack as he goes to retrieve her presents from the guitar case he knew she’d never check.

“You remembered!” She squawks, showing him the yellow box of Tarot Cards as if he hadn’t wrapped them a few hours before. She’d told him last month that she wanted Tarot cards for the sole purpose of pissing off her mother, and he was more than happy to oblige. Next she oohs and ahhhs over the book he’d bought to go along with the cards, shakes the jar of weed he got her like someone mixing a drink, and wells up just a little at the framed Polaroid of the two of them on New Years. Benjy follows Cleona around the apartment as she finds the perfect spot for it, catching her around the middle and pulling her onto the couch after she puts it on the mantle. They kiss lazily, with a hunger they both know will soon be satisfied. She drags her fingers down the back of his hair, making Benjy shiver-something he didn’t know could be sweet before he’d met Cleona.

“Got one more for you, Finny.” He says after a while, pulling his hands out from under her shirt. Cleona shakes her head, soft as the mismatched lights above them.

“This is too much, Benjy.”

“I promise; its not nearly enough.”

She sits back on the couch and Benjy gets on his knees before her. Cleona smirks when he touches her knee.

“Before-Before this…” Benjy says, hoping she doesn’t hear his voice shake. She does, or maybe she notices that he looks away. She changes immediately, something that still awes him. It’s proof, proof she doesn’t even know she’s giving, that she cares about him. It scares the shit out of him. And it’s why he knows he loves her.

Benjy’s never been one to run towards something he was afraid of, not before Cleona Finnigan.

She sits forward, her knees coming underneath her as she crouches on the couch, her hand on his shoulder. Her hair falls to one side, blocking some of the light from the window, reminding Benjy of the blanket forts they still make when they’re loopy.

“Benj…?”

He takes her hands.

“I never...I’ve never had a home before.” Cleona’s hands squeeze his when their eyes meet and she sees the tears springing in his.

“Much less, er, someone who I can’t wait to come home to. I-I’m going to get you one. I promise. A real one. Our own. Without Mrs. Mulligan and her broom, where you can paint the living room orange and scream sing at 3 in the morning. And I can sing along. I promise you, Cleona. I’m going to give you everything.”

“Benj-”

“And don’t tell me I already have.” He says softly, pulling one hand away to touch her chin before taking it again. “I’m getting there. But you still have to work at that shite place and I can’t wait until I can make enough so you can quit-if you want to.”

“If I want to.” Cleona repeats, looking a bit begrudged but smiling all the same. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll let you buy me a house.”

Benjy laughs, and she pulls away to wipe a tear off of his cheek. Her hand stays there for a second as they smile at each other.

“Is uh, that all you wanted to say?”

“Right yeah.”

Benjy makes a show of clearing his throat and sniffling as Cleona laughs. It’s easy to meet her eyes now. She knows what’s coming. She’s excited. Benjy can’t stop smiling either.

“I love you. And I uh, I’m never going to love anyone else. And I know we’re young and I know I haven’t even come close to what you deserve, but I’ll get there, Finny. I have to. I-I never want to be with anyone else. Ever.”

“Me neither.” Cleona says softly, her voice cracking at the edges. Benjy holds onto her hands harder.

“I think we should get married.” He blurts out, and Cleona beams.

“That’s how you’re asking?!” She shrieks, before bracing herself against him and kissing him with adoration Benjy has never felt before.

“How’m I supposed to?”

“The proper way, I dunno!”

“Baby…” Benjy says, shifting to one knee. “Have you ever known me to be proper?”

Cleona shakes her head, still speaking just a touch too loudly. “Nope!”

“Now sit back so I can do this properly.”

She scurries into place, and Benjy uses this opportunity to pull the ring box out of his back pocket. She gasps when she sees it, even though the lid is still on.

“Benjy, holy shit-”

“Proper.” He says, drinking her in. He commits her to memory. Wild hair and his shirt, a smile he put there, the Christmas lights dancing on her skin. He lifts the lid and shows her. It’s not much, but its better than he thought he could get three months ago. He’s still not convinced the tiny stone in the middle is a diamond, but the gold setting makes the diamond look like the center of a flower. Two slivers of emerald are set beside it, resembling leaves. It’s from the 30s, at least according to the lady at the pawn shop. He sold the guitar in the now empty case to make up for the hundred pounds he had been short.

“Cleona. I love you with everything I have. I couldn’t have ever even dreamed you up if I’d tried. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, and I’m going to do my damndest to make sure I never do. Will you marry me?”

She’s crying. He’s crying. She nods so vigorously she shakes.

“Yeah.” She says, her voice wet. Benjy bursts out laughing and explodes towards her, the ring box falling gently beside them.

“You’re on my arse to be proper and you respond with yeah?!”

“Yes,” She laughs, kissing him fiercely. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

He swings her around to sit in his lap as he kisses her neck. Clumsily, he pulls up the box and takes the ring out, sliding it on her finger and kissing the back of her hand as she spreads her fingers to admire it.

“It fits perfectly.”

“Hmm, its lucky you and your brothers all have freakishly small hands.”

Cleona twists her neck around to look at him.

“The demons know?!”

Benjy nods, faking sympathy. “I’m afraid so.” He kisses the side of her nose before she turns her head back around to look at the ring some more. Benjy’s hands settle on her basically bare hips, making his thumbs go around in circles like he knows she likes.

“Figured I should at least get the approval of the two who actually matter.”

She tips her head back to look up at him poking the stubble on the bottom of his chin. He knows how much her triplets mean to her, and frankly, they mean an awful lot to him too. Telling Axl and Killian was telling his best friends his plans almost as much as it was asking Cleona’s brothers for her hand.

“You did good.”

“Axl almost didn’t give it back, he wore it around the whole fucking night.”

“What’d they say?” Cleona asks softly after she finishes laughing.

“Oh they said no, no way. They’ll be here shortly to murder me.”

“Piss off.”

“Well,” Benjy says, kissing her ear, her cheek, her jaw.

“One of them cried-”

“Killian-”

“And the other one punched me in the nose.”

“Axl said that was cause you said he had a better arse than me!”

Benjy grumbles and Cleona flips over, kissing up Benjy’s shirt and finally meeting his lips.

“You mean all of that, don’t you?”

“I always mean it when it comes to you.”

Cleona smiles at that, and her kisses become more leading, more urgent.

“Benjy?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe I’m nineteen.”

“Doesn’t that mean you get nineteen kisses?”

Cleona smiles and lets him get to seven before she stops him.

“That house you’re buying for me?”

“Yeah? What color do you want it?”

“Anything but brick. But in the house?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there uh…” She blushes and giggles like she’s fourteen. “Are there rooms for babies?”

Something deep inside of Benjy wakes up. He’s surprised how warm he feels.

“As many as you want.”

“One hundred.”

“TWO hundred.”

When they break apart again she touches his cheek with her left hand and wiggles her ring against his skin.

“And you mean it.” It’s not a question. Benjy nods before kissing her once again.

“Always.” He says simply, not knowing then the weight a promise like that carried.

#drabble #a gift for anniel

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scumbagbaker · 4 years ago

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Amen || Irish AU

He didn’t believe in God. Not that he ever had, but he understood the urge to, during recovery. It was tempting, the idea of some higher power that saw everything, that held them accountable, that knew the truth no matter what they proclaimed at the start of meetings. Benjy kept his head bowed and his eyes open during the prayer, just enough to look like he was going along with it all, nothing more, nothing less.

The same concept wasn’t applied to recovery itself. He’d taken to the 12 steps like a duck to water. No, that wasn’t quite right. He’d taken to the 12 steps like an animal that had spent its entire life in a zoo, who finally got to see real grass without bars for the first time. Sobriety had given him a freedom he didn’t know was possible. the idea of that cage surrounding him again was enough motivation to stay sober, with or without any kind of God.

Benjy feels his three year sober chip in his wallet as he sits on the train, his stomach souring with dread as the scenery gets more and more familiar. Three years sober, as of 29 days ago. Two and a half years single, since Ollie liked vodka more than him, and now, despite his success as a sober person, Benjy had come to the step he’d been dreading.

Amends.

Benjy stares at the piece of paper in his hands, tracing over the unfamiliar address with his thumb. He lets his mind wander, lets his thoughts creep into the darkness that’s always there on the edge of his consciousness-what would their address be if he had stayed? Would he had been able to give them a house in Foxrock? He doubts it. Benjy thinks of the sometimes pitifully thin envelopes he’d sent, without fail, every single one of those hundreds of weeks since he’d left. He could’ve gotten them something, at least, maybe, if he’d been able to keep it together. If he could’ve been a fraction of what they had deserved.

He’d told his sponsor, a grizzled old Scot named Al, nearly everything. How’d he’d slipped out early in the morning, how they’d both been asleep in the bed next to him. How she’d woken up, just a little, and that Benjy had told her he’d been right back.

It wasn’t the first time he’d lied to Cleona, not by a long shot, but Benjy couldn’t think of a lie that hurt more.

And now, 5 years, 8 months and 13 days later, he was finally turning his lie into the truth.

He’d called the bar three times, hanging up out of fear the first two. When the “Hello?” was softer than the two before it, Benjy faced his fear and spoke.

“Killian?”

Benjy hears his former best friend suck in a quick breath.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.”

“I know.”

“What do you want?”

Benjy fights the urge to hang up again.

“I’m-in the program. I need to-I have to tell her I’m sorry, Kili. In person. And Shay too. Don’t you think they deserve that?”

Benjy, though he didn’t and still doesn’t believe in God, found himself praying in the silent crackle of the phone line.

“She moved on, you know.”

He hadn’t known. Not fully. There’d been a tiny, stupid, egotistical part of him that had hoped-

“As she should’ve. And-”

Benjy fights the lump in his throat to get his son’s name out.

“Seamus? Does he-?”

“Mate. You left before he was one.”

Killian’s voice isn’t accusatory, Benjy could deal with accusations. What he couldn’t handle was what was in his should have been brother-in-law’s voice; pity.

Whether the pity was there because Benjy had missed out on so much or because he was stupid enough to think his son would remember him, Benjy wasn’t sure.

“Right, right. Yeah. I-I’m moving back to town next month. Gotta take care of some stuff with my mum. And I figured she wasn’t still at uh, the cottage, but I was wondering...could you tell me where she’s staying?”

“What’s going on with your mum?” Killian says, suddenly wary. Benjy’s mom was just as nasty and cruel as any of the women in the neighborhood they’d grown up in. The fact that she hated Irish people was just a fun little bonus that further alienated Benjy’s already alienated ass.

“She died.” Benjy says flatly, no emotion in his voice.

“Oh.”

This is when normal people would apologize, but Killian knew Benjy enough to know not to waste his breath. Still, if his mum had been good for anything other than a genetic predisposition to substance abuse, maybe her death would give Benjy just enough sympathy...

“Alright.”

Benjy could continue falling into his own memory, but the train whistle sounds and the world outside starts slowing down. He gathers his secondhand, single suitcase from the overhead compartment. It contains two pairs of jeans, six pairs of pants, two plaid shirts, four black t shirts, four white t shirts, the suit he’d bought himself when he turned eighteen, nine pairs of socks, three photographs, paperwork from his mum’s estate lawyer, two dozen packs of cigarettes, and, the cumulation of three years of sober, sweaty work: €18,358.45

The cash took up most of the space, so Benjy reckons his suit is properly wrinkled now. He pulls his wool lined jean jacket closer around his shoulders as he exits the train heads towards the station doors. It was early April, the weekend after her birthday but Benjy tries to pretend like he doesn’t remember that. He pulls the black stocking cap down further over his ears, wishing he’d worn three of his flannels over his black t shirt instead of two. His yellow converse were nearly brown now, and Benjy is just thankful he doesn't have to open his umbrella before he hails his taxi.

The driver does a double take when Benjy gives him the address-clearly he isn’t the usual faire of that neighborhood, but he just nods at him and starts to dig in his bag for enough money to cover the cost without looking obvious. Once he’s achieved that, Benjy stares out the window, watching as the buildings surrounding them get nicer and nicer. They pause at an intersection with an empty storefront, and Benjy stares at his reflection in the window. He should’ve gotten a haircut, the curls on his neck were peaking out from under his hat, making his hair dangerously close to a mullet. He had at least managed to shave off his mustache, terrified of looking too visibly queer in front of someone who, a lifetime ago, had introduced him to his first queer friends. He looks odd without it, he decides. Somehow too young and too old all at once-though Benjy supposes that is how he feels. He’s still not entirely sure how he’d managed to make it to twenty-five, and, dully, he wonders if he’ll be strong enough to make it to thirty.

The dullness turns back to dread when the cab parks. Benjy has half a mind to tell him to forget it, or to keep it running, certain that whoever answers that door will have him thrown out at once. But, wordlessly, Benjy hands the bills forward and gets out of the cab, standing and staring up at the gorgeously expensive house in front of him even after it drives away.

Benjy takes a breath, his hand slipping into his pocket to fiddle with his 3 years chip. Al had found him a group to go while he was in town, staying at his mum’s “house” that Benjy was pretty sure wasn’t outfitted for regular heating, but facing the near homelessness he’d grown up with again was going to be rough. It was going to be too much, Benjy knew, if Cleona opened the door only to slam it in his face.

If she refused to see him, Benjy was going right back to the train station and getting a ticket back to London. Even if that meant...

Could he come all this way and not see his son? Was he such a coward that he’d run away a second time? Maybe then Benjy would wait until Seamus was old enough to deck him properly. Or maybe, Benjy can meet his dad the same time Seamus meets him.

Benjy is able to move his suitcase out of the way just in the nick of time as he violently vomits into the storm drain at his feet. Two impossibly polished women pushing prams give him the side eye from across the street. Benjy waves, for some stupid reason, and calls out “bad salad!” because, clearly, that explained projectile vomiting in a neighborhood where the benches cost more than everything he’s ever owned.

Benjy closes his eyes. He pictures his son, the hole in his heart, in his life. He pictures the thousands of versions of Shay he had spent the past 2,078 days missing. He repeats it to himself, the mantra he’s told no one about.

“I am the cycle breaker, I will make amends. I am the cycle breaker, I will make amends.”

Benjy sucks in a breath and opens the gate, heading up the front walk to the impressive house. He wasn’t sure where Cleona stood on God, but he hoped with a hope he had no business having that she believed in second chances.

#drabble #irish

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